


Buying Some Love

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: F/M, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swindle gets a crush on his newest client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buying Some Love

Swindle had thought he’d seen everything from every celestial corner of the galaxy, from walking jellyfish to Insecticons the size of a Metrotitan (with eggs more valuable than an Iacon relic, and significantly better tasting with a side of wire fries). He also thought he was prepared for whatever it was that was going to walk through his cluttered Tarn warehouse, with Megatron’s foreword still rolling in his processor when he heard the click of heels on tiled flooring approaching behind him.

’ _You never mentioned your freak was a femme, Megatron…’_ Swindle thought absently, almost forgetting about Starscream’s ill-thought ped upgrade that had him clacking up and down the Decepticon HQ for a decacycle before he finally got someone to reverse it. He was eager to see what was so jarring about the new recruit that Megatron saw it fit to warn him beforehand, but he’d also been looking for a very specific laser barrel for a breem and thought he’d glimpsed its muzzle poking over a shelf. He was still trying to pull it down without straining a servo joint when the clicking stopped, replaced with the less austere tap of claws on metal. 

“Megatron told me you had armour I could use.”

’ _Ooh, yes, that’s definitely a femme._ ’ Swindle allowed himself to smirk more than usual at the sound of her voice. Femme vocalisers usually had a frequency slightly higher than that of mechs, but this one’s seemed tuned to bringing mechs like him to their knees.  
Or maybe that was just the weight of the laser barrel almost pulling his servos out of their sockets as he hefted it down, forcing him to stumble and roll it onto a workbench before he ended up looking half like an Empurata victim.

“And he told correctly, my dear.” Even with his cables groaning Swindle still managed to keep his voice well oiled. “Swindle’s the name, black market weaponry and armour fashion’s my game.” He turned to the femme with his servo held out, and couldn’t have dropped it even if he tried when he finally saw her. 

The femme’s top row of optics flicked aside as if she was trying to remember what her own designation was, glossa clicking against fanged denta. “Blackarachnia,” she eventually divulged, closing razor claws over Swindle’s frozen palm. He tried not to snatch it away from her when the greeting was done, both out of fear of rudeness and for scratches all over his hand.

“Quite an exotic name, if I may say. Guessing it’s from Kalis?” He never paid much attention to linguistics, but most from the Iacon area prided themselves on stuffing as many syllables into their names as possible.

Then again, he was surprised she could say them all without slicing her glossa to pieces on her own denta. In fact, he was surprised about… a lot of things, considering her. She didn’t answer his question, anyway.  
Four optics on a single helm were watching him warily as he made his way to the one of the only organised sections of the warehouse; shelves and racks of mismatched armour pieces scavenged from a thousand battlefields on a hundred different planets. Most weren’t even of Cybertronian make, but desperation for protection had the effect of making bots much less picky about what they wore- and how much they had to pay for it.

Of course, he couldn’t actually sell anything to Blackarachnia if she was down on Megatron’s orders. Their trading contract only extended to armour and munition upgrades, anything basic had to be given to the Decepticon troops for free. Which of course meant a huge influx of trigger-happy bots too poor to afford a gun of their own singing up to have one handed to them, and a huge drop in Swindle’s local dealing. 

Maybe he’d try asking Blackie what aliens made her into… whatever she was now. Even the peaceful species liked having their armories stocked, “just in case”.  
Maybe he’d ask her over a drink at Maccadam’s, after she was taken care of. 

’ _Okay, the faceplate is a little… exotic, but certainly not the worst I’ve seen_.’ Any bot could look gorgeous after enough shots of Rocket, and Blackarachnia still had a lot on her to admire. Hourglass frame, immaculate paint job, details that shined even in the dimness of the warehouse- Pit, even her fangs wouldn’t be so intimidating if they were against his lips. 

He was so lost in his mock date that he almost forgot she was a client first, potential berthmate second. Luckily Blackarachnia was happy to remind him with a snap of her claws in front of his violet visor. 

“Anything you’d like to suggest?” she asked while he shook his helm, flicking a servo at a row of helmets that had caught at least two of her optics.

Swindle spied one that he’d actually forgot he had in stock- something he had lifted from a poorly guarded Predacon nest, if he remembered correctly. 

“Well, if you want _my_ professional opinion…” He pretended to glance quickly over the row before looking back at Blackarachnia. “I’d go for something in _gold_. It would really bring out your optics.”

Just as he planned, her attention fixed on the Predacon prize, gleaming yellow aside from some dust mites and dents on its surface. She weighed it in her claws for a few moments before sliding it on, covering the purple crown of her helm and even the mandibles that curved out from her cheeks. Her optics blinked through the four slits, and their gleam matched that of her fangs as she grinned. 

“A perfect fit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another ancient tumblr request that I completely forgot about until now, when I figured I didn't have enough TFA fics up.


End file.
